


On The Terrace

by Cottontail



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Boys Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23726818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottontail/pseuds/Cottontail
Summary: David mourned Louis for two weeks, and then...SPOILERS for Prince Lestat, Blood Communion.
Relationships: Louis de Pointe du Lac/David Talbot
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	On The Terrace

**Author's Note:**

> I love David and Louis together. I think they have a very strong bond, and I wish Lestat would have addressed that a little more.

After weeks with a broken neck, encased in steel, and sealed in a coffin, the welcome back at the De Lioncourt Chateaux was not exactly what Louis expected. Well, he actually didn’t expect anything, because he never anticipated having a broken neck, being encased in steel and sealed in a coffin. It just hadn’t ever come up before. So, this riotous atmosphere he is returned to, as Gregory sets them down gently on one of the open terraces outside the ballroom, is all a little nerve-racking, to say the least.

He doesn’t really remember the flight back, because he was passed out most of it. But what he does remember is coming to, towards the end of it, and being surprised to find himself in Gregory’s embrace. Louis’s eyes burned in the force of the wind and he had to bury his head in Gregory’s thick overcoat, trying to gain some sense of equilibrium. An unfamiliar hand was on the back of head, holding him like a mother holds a newborn’s head. Gregory had whispered into his mind; telling him to go back to sleep, that they would be home soon; everything was fine and he was safe again and would never be let out of their sight again. 

Very sweet sentiments, all of it, but where was Lestat? 

They entered the ruin of the ballroom, where the cheers and whistles and applause were finally quieted by Marius, who spoke to the crowd, giving half-truths about what actually happened to them. Louis glanced over at Lestat, who was standing with his mother some distance away. He looked like hell. Louis felt an urge to go to him and comb the wind-tangled hair off his face, and hold him close. He in fact took a step to do so, but was overwhelmed by a sense of unbalance. Fareed was by his side, holding his arm and speaking in an urgent but quiet tone. “You shouldn’t move too fast just yet. Your system isn’t recovering as quickly as the others.” 

Louis didn’t know if he should be disturbed by that or just thankful Fareed was there to stop him from falling on his face in front of such a large gathering. 

The crowd dissipated, per Marius’s suggestion. The ballroom was a battle-scarred disaster. Torn apart, broken, burned. Vaguely Louis remembered his abduction, but his mind would not let him rest on it for long. It had been so fast, so violent. Lestat was surveying it all, and being led away by his servants and Gregory. He glanced back at Louis briefly. There was something in his eyes. Overwhelming exhaustion and hollowness.

Louis turned towards the terrace and saw David out there, leaning against the battlements, arms crossed on his chest; his gold-brown eyes fixed on Louis. Louis promised not to move too fast and Fareed reluctantly let him go. He stepped gingerly out onto the balcony, and walked slowly to David. The world was slightly off balance, but a few deep breaths of the fresh night air righted it again. At last he stood before David.

David was in black. Solid black, head to toe. Black cashmere sweater, black overcoat, black pants, black boots. It was beautiful on him, but also not his usual style. David was staring at him like he was a miracle. 

“So,” Louis started then cleared his throat, because it was still raspy and slightly sore. “Seems the reports of my death were greatly exaggerated.” 

David didn’t smile. He unfolded his arms and pulled Louis to him, holding him in a vise-like grip. He ran his hands over Louis, his face, his hair, his shoulders, his body. Louis slid his own hands up David’s broad back, beneath the overcoat, and held on for life, as he was clearly a bit frantic and emotional, making sure Louis was real. 

After a few minutes the fervency died to a dull heat. David had a fistful of Louis’s hair and was holding him tight, so that there was little space between any part of their bodies. “I thought you were dead.” His voice was almost broken, and Louis didn’t know what to say to that, so he just held David and kissed his jawline. David breathed, “My god, man, stop doing this to me. Stop with these near-death experiences.” 

“I’ll try.” Louis replied. “But in my defense, this time was not my fault.” 

Louis placed a hand on David’s chest, the black fabric soft beneath his touch, the heartbeat like a strong drum. He seemed relaxed and Louis moved to step out of the embrace but David tightened his hold, unwilling to let go. He leaned in and they shared a kiss, deep and familiar; tinged with David’s blood where he’d bitten his own tongue. When the kiss ended, he finally loosened his grip on Louis and let him step back incrementally, but kept a firm hold of his hand. 

“I mourned you,” David’s voice was hushed, like it was some covert secret. 

“I would expect nothing less,” Louis replied. 

“I really went all out, you know. Black for two-weeks straight.” David’s eyes glinted gold in the moonlight. 

Louis smiled and squeezed his hand. “Well, tomorrow you can go back to your tweed.” 

Finally, there was a glimmer of a smile from him. Louis’s heart skipped.

David kissed his forehead, “My brother.” 

/fin


End file.
